I'm Not Your Hero
by Little Boy of Lothering
Summary: Wow, they changed the story outline. Leon has a little conversation with Ashley. Rated for language. Short. He's injured, because how could he not be?


Yeah, don't own Resident Evil or any of its characters. *He calls he sweetheart in the game.

"Don't Call Me Your Hero"

I never wanted this mission. I never wanted to be sent into some nowhere town in Spain, just by myself, to save the President's daughter. The moment I heard about it, I just got this gut feeling and I knew right away that it would be Raccoon City all over again, and that my kill-rate would skyrocket even more. Goddamn. All my life, I wanted to be a cop, not some government agent. Well, I guess, by technically definition, that my dream, my childish goal, came true. Only for a day though. For one fucking day. Then the T-Virus happened. Now I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with a blonde girl who's more of a hindrance than a helper. Most would say "well, at least she's company," but I disagree. Claire was company. Claire could also shoot a gun. I tried to hand Ashley a gun. All she did was widen her eyes and shake her head. Fuck this. I just want to go home.

But I can't, not right now. I need to find a cure to this damn parasite, for the both of us, and get in contact with Hunnigan again. It's pretty much impossible to get out of here without a copper. I was told right before this that this whole thing would be relatively simple for someone who killed about a thousand six years ago, and I'd been on missions like this before. Or so I was told, and so we all thought. But last I checked, my last few didn't include fighting off hordes of not-zombies and mutations. I'm flat-out terrified, though I'll never tell a soul. If I'll even be able to again. I swear to god that I'll shoot myself before the Las Plagas take over. I can feel them, and that scares me even more. The blood keeps coming up. I'm trying to hide it from Ashley, but she knows. She knows because it's happening to her too.

Right now we're sitting on a bedroom floor of one of the houses somewhere in the village. No one's outside, and I think I've killed just about everyone (oh shit, I'm a murder), but even so, the gun's right next to me on the floor. It's just a little handgun, completely abused by this mission. I really need bandages, but I ran out. My ribs are crushed, I have cuts all over, a hole between the two bones in my left hand. I'm having trouble using it right now. Crossbows. All these Medieval weapons...this is insane. It's like I've left the twenty-first century and came all the way back before there was proper plumbing. Imagine my surprise when I realize that there was.

I bend over and start just...hacking. Oh crap. This isn't cool. There's blood everywhere. Ashley's immediately there and I just want to tell her to leave me alone for a second. Why's she the only one who can run away? But then again, she's also the idiot who keeps getting caught. Again. And again.

The attack stops. They've been getting worse since the accident with my ribs, though I highly doubt that many people could have their ribs stay completely crack-free after getting crushed by this huge _thing_. El Gigante, I think I heard someone call it. I look over a Ashley, who's hovering right in front of me. She slides in and out of focus. She gets back and sits against the wall next from me. At least she got the hint. I probably shouldn't feel this bitter (for lack of a better word) towards her at the moment, but I was supposed have off for a week or two when I got the call. Finally, some time off. I was going to try and contact Claire again. I don't have many friends, seeing as I'm always on duty, and I've had no family since Raccoon City. Talking to someone other than coworkers would be nice.

"What's the first thing you'll eat when you get back home?" Ashley asks randomly. I look over at her.

"An orange. A big one, the type that tastes like candy." I can't help but smile at the thought and wipe my less-injured hand against my mouth. It doesn't take all the blood away, but it's enough. "What about you, Sweetheart?"* The name comes out almost sarcastic, but I can't help it. At least it wasn't too bad, and I don't think she's noticed.

"A smores Poptart."

"I expected something a bit more original from the President's daughter." I laugh slightly. Bad move. I put my hand to my stomach.

"Who's the first person you're going to call?" What is this, twenty questions? Oh well. It's better than not saying anything at all. I take a deep breath. Fuck, this hurts.

"I don't know yet. You?"

"My dad. How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven. You're twenty-four, right?"

"Yeah. What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Turquoise."

"Aren't they the same thing?" Ashley laughs. We go quiet for a moment.

"Thanks for saving me, Leon," she says quietly.

"I'm just doing my job," I answer. It's the truth after all. I'm literally just doing it _because_ _it's my job_.

"But really, thanks. I knew they were going to send someone, and I thought they'd be a bit older, but I'm glad it's you." She smiles.

"Thanks for the compliment I guess. You're dad sent me, so I came. Simple as that. I didn't exactly expect to be attacked by a person who looked like they came right out of a Colonial Festival with a fire-poker the moment I got here."

"You're my hero, Leon," she says, still smiling, looking happy despite the situation. I guess having someone to talk to must be a pretty good change for her. She talks a lot.

"I'm not your hero, Ashley, so don't call me one. I'm not amazing or anything, I'm not a genius because I know what I'm doing without trail and error. I've just had to do this before. And look at me. I'm busted up and look like I just walked through hell. I'm not some guy who's a super hero, like Spiderman or anything like that. I don't want to be considered some epic savior who volunteered for the job just because I like to save people. In utter honestly, I'm not exactly the kind of guy who jumps right back in to save someone. It's my job, I fit it best, that's why I'm here, and I can't believe they sent me here on my own. Don't call me your hero, Ashley, because I don't want to be seen as one." I move my hair from my face and a few drops of blood on my forehead. I feel bad almost, just snapping on her like that. I feel dizzy, but ignore this.

"Sorry," she says quietly, looking at the floor. "I didn't..."

I nod, because I know what she means.

We don't talk for the rest of the night. She falls asleep, but I stay up because I need to keep her safe. More than anything, I need to keep her safe.

But I'm not her hero. And I never could be.


End file.
